The back roads outside the village of Raymond are, to say the least, twisted and I can't help but think that when they laid the roads they merely paved around the trees instead of clearing a more suitable route. When I pulled out of the driveway I sideswiped the trashcans reducing the right front headlight to shards of glass and dust leaving the lonely left headlamp to pierce the un-relentless evening murk. It's a clear night but even the luminescence of the night sky isn't penetrating the thick Maine woods. The speedometer is kissing seventy miles per hour on the straights and then dipping down ever so slightly as I twist and slither along the serpentine road trying to anticipate the next bend or dip. I downshift pushing the accelerator further towards the floor mat as I come upon the last curve before the break in the trees that, until now, were holding the road captive from the evening sky. I rifle through the turn and burst into the straightaway leaving the dark woods behind me and I feel like Iíve jettisoned myself from some dark labyrinth into the sanctuary of some kind of celestial plain. The sky is clear and blanketed with stars that cascade down like a dome to meet the horizon in every direction.
It's a beautiful scene that surrounds me as I sail along strapped into this tiny little vehicle with its lonely headlight scrambling to light the road before me. Up ahead I see my destination on the left. It's a small dirt road with a small unconvincing "No Trespassing" sign that's leaning towards the Earth as if to let everyone know it wasnít sure of its actual purpose. I make the left onto the road that's flanked by grass for about a mile on each side and continue my journey. I reach the end of the road and bring the car to a complete stop, pull the emergency break, extinguish my one good headlight and turn off the engine. Almost immediately, I begin to feel myself calming down from the night's exhilarating events.
Total silence. No light but the stars above.
I reach over to the passenger seat, grab the half-finished pack of Marlboro's, slide one out of its resting place and edge it between my lips. I pull my lighter out, throw the pack back to the passenger side and light up. The first inhale is always my favorite. I let the smoke slide down to kiss my lungs and then let it slowly exit through my nostrils, closing my eyes as if an orgasm was imminent.
I open my eyes and allow myself to focus on the scene before me. Its a tremendous setting, beautiful, distant from the hum of human life and it begins to remind me why I picked this location. I'm on a hill and it overlooks one of the beautiful lakes in the region that's nestled neatly in the pines and rests silently below the mountains. The legions of stars above me are casting a gray glow over the landscape and I can see the lake in the distance flickering the reflection of the stars as if it were trying to communicate with the heavens. The night sky looks like an endless colossal vacuum, spread end to end, top to bottom, with stars, planets, and moons all ceaselessly spinning and orbiting; stars exploding and imploding, meteors and heavenly debris sailing in a single infinite and random direction. Yet down here on this tiny hill outside the village of Raymond, the skies present an image of stillness and calm despite the eternal violent and beautiful evolution of these heavenly bodies.
For a moment I feel infinitesimal and completely free. I'm beginning to feel like for just this stolen moment, inside this tiny car, with the silent peace of the heavens raining down on me, I could stop. I could let it go.
I begin to cry.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks and my heart is aching. Emotions start swelling from the darkest corners of my heart and mind clawing at me and screaming to be heard. Faces are sailing through my head. I hear their laughter and their beautiful innocent voices echo through every inch of my body. My tears are blurring my eyes and the beautiful scene outside the windshield begins to smear into darkness splattered with streaks of light. I yank my cigarette out my mouth wedging it between my right index and middle finger and clutch the steering wheel with both hands stretching my arms out pushing my torso back into the seat until my elbows lock. It's like a dam has broken from somewhere behind my eyeballs, the tears flowing uncontrollably down my cheeks, under my chin and down my neck as my body shudders and my head pounds. I finally conjure up a massive scream from somewhere within me that rattles and subdues my emotions back into my subconscious. My eyes begin to dry almost immediately, I'm wiping them and my nose with the sleeve of my shirt like I was a child getting over the pain of skinning my knee.
I reach up and swing the rearview mirror down to assess my eyes in the aftermath of my small emotional fray. I feel like my eyeballs are going to fall out of my swollen eye sockets and judging from my bloodshot reflection it looks like they might. As I push the rearview mirror away from my reflection I catch a glimpse of her legs in the back seat. I dump my half finished cigarette into the car's virgin ashtray and swivel around to face the backseat. She had slid around a little during my expedition through the back roads of Raymond and her History 101 textbook along with some assorted folders and notebooks were now strewn across the backseat and floor. Her beautiful legs are still securely fastened by the phone cord I ripped out of the wall in her small studio apartment by the photo of her and her sister backpacking through Europe. Her hands are still fastened behind her back with the duct tape I used to silence her mouth. Her blond hair looks radiant in the starlight even though her skin is fading into a blue hue. Her eyes are still open; her head slumped down making it look like sheís looking for something on the car floor. Her waitress uniform is completely disheveled and her nametag is hanging on by a thread and staring me in the face. I gently reach back and unhook it from whatís left of her blouse brushing her bare neck into view revealing the black scars my hands left while squeezing the last breath of life out of her. I put the tag in my shirt pocket, a small memento to remember her by. I always take the nametags.
I swivel back around and take another look at the scene outside the windshield. Beautiful. I grab my cigarettes and get out of the car and suck in a deep breath of the night air. It's clean, it rejuvenates me and I feel good. I peel my gloves off and stuff them into my back pocket only to deposit them in the lake at some point later tonight. I start down the hill away from the car towards the lake. Itís a perfect night for a stroll along the shoreline and Iíll probably get back to town by early morning.
I'm thinking about heading south.
I think I'll head that way soon, but I know I'll be hungry in the morning and I think I know the perfect place to calm my appetite.
The End
